A Hostage Situation
by r4ven3
Summary: This is a post S10 story, in which all the drama of S10 is skipped, only for drama of another kind to emerge from unexpected quarters. Also featuring Erin, Dimitri, Tariq and Alec, who made it out alive. 5 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

22nd December 2012 – London:

Strangely for an inner city hotel, the lift is empty, so the woman wearing the long grey coat hurries through the open doors, pushing the stroller in front of her. She then turns so that she and the stroller face the open doorway, and just as she is about to push the button for the lift to take her to the fifth floor, she and her baby are joined by a tall man with very dark eyes, dark shoulder length hair, and facial stubble. The woman nods to the man, barely registering his presence, before she bends down to check her child, whose eyes had closed in sleep as they'd turned a corner while approaching the hotel. The woman tucks the blanket tightly around the child's legs, and then fondly pushes the little girl's blond curls back from her eyes. She smiles, awed by her daughter's perfection. The child's unblemished skin calls to her to reach out and stroke the soft cheek with her fingertips, while her baby's long eyelashes rest on her cheeks, the fingers of one hand still grasping the leg of a soft toy – a bright green penguin called William, a name suggested by her husband. William is rather plump, and with a grumpy expression, and her daughter loves him, and won't settle at night unless William is in the cot beside her, her small arm curved around his neck.

The woman then stands behind the child's stroller, her fingers curved tightly around the handle. She stares ahead of her, very aware of the man standing just behind her right shoulder. For reasons she cannot summon, his presence has triggered a familiar response, a frisson of discomfort which passes across her skin and down her back in a ripple. She cannot provide reasons why she reaches out to press the button for the second floor, which she knows has an exit door close to the lifts. Her hand is about to touch the button, but the man reaches out from behind her and grasps her wrist. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says. Deep voice, continental accent, most likely French. The woman withdraws her hand, closes her eyes, and does something she hasn't done in a very long time. With her hands tightly grasping the handle of her daughter's stroller, she prays.

* * *

22nd December 2012 – Thames House:

Erin Watts' head is bent over the stack of files in front of her on the desk – Harry's desk – as Tariq Masood slides back the door and enters Harry's inner sanctum. Were Harry _in situ_ he'd knock before entering, but Erin seems less precious about such formalities, and she has never once yelled at him, made unreasonable demands, or suggested he wear a proper shirt, one with buttons down the front.

"Tariq?" she says, lifting her head and raising her eyebrows.

"There's something you need to see."

Sensing the urgency in the younger man's tone, Erin quickly follows him from the office. He is hurrying, and so she suspects he may have something to show her requiring her immediate attention. The Christmas period has been far too quiet, and this worries her.

When they reach his work station, he has four windows open on his monitor. Two are running live CCTV feeds, and two are images which he has captured. Erin sits in the chair next to him, while he turns the monitor towards her. "These stills were captured only minutes ago," he says. "They are from the front foyer of the Sir Walter Raleigh Hotel in -"

"I know where it is," Erin says quickly, "and that looks like Alain Regnier," she adds, pointing to one of the still images of a tall thin man with a long nose and shoulder length, dark wavy hair, as he enters the hotel through the front door. The Sir Walter Raleigh is chiefly a residential hotel, somewhere people can hire rooms and suites long term, and she knows Alain Regnier would not have a room in this hotel. He is more likely to rent a flat south or east of the city.

"It's a match all right," Tariq replies, "but he's ahead of me this time." With one click of his mouse the other two CCTV live images disappear, replaced by a feed of Regnier hurrying towards the lifts, and then entering a lift in which a woman stands facing him, a child in a stroller in front of her.

"Rewind that," Erin says, and Tariq does. He can detect the urgency in his Acting Section Head's voice.

"Stop there," she says, pointing to the monitor. "Can you enlarge the image of the woman?"

"Right," Tariq replies, and so he does. What they see has them both unable to speak. It is Tariq who recovers first. "I thought she was in the US, or somewhere," he says.

"So did I, but it's her all right, and she has a child."

"I wonder does Harry know about this."

Erin has been thinking the very same thing, but her mind is rushing ahead of her, doing rapid calculations. The child appears to be around ten to twelve months of age, which means it would have been born around December of the previous year, which would have it being conceived in March of the previous year, which was not long before Ruth had taken extended leave from the service. For the past fifteen months Harry has reduced his working hours, demanding he have most weekends free. How he's been spending his weekends, and where, is something he's managed to keep to himself, but the word on the Grid is that he has a house in the country, and that his weekends are spent there. Erin had not thought that unusual, given Harry must be considering retirement. Added to that, he took leave for all of the previous December, and he hadn't returned to work until mid January. This December he is taking leave from mid December until early in the new year. It is uncharacteristic for Harry take leave at all, let alone being off-Grid for weeks at a time.

"He must have a girlfriend," Alec White had suggested.

Dimitri had laughed, while Tariq had declared that men Harry's age are more likely to spend their time doing DIY, or gardening. Erin had remained silent during the discussion, believing that Alec may have been on to something.

Erin acts immediately. "I'll ring Dimitri. He's not far away, and he should have Tony with him." She had sent Dimitri and Tony to watch the flat of Abby Rocher, the girlfriend of Alain Regnier, and knowing Regnier had already entered the country, they were presuming he'd turn up at Abby's flat.

Erin is about to leave when Tariq says the very thing they are both thinking. "Shouldn't we call Harry?"

"Probably, but our first priority is to get to Regnier before he -"

"- kills Ruth."

Erin is already half way across the Grid floor, so Tariq's rather dark response enters the air around him, but falls short of other ears. Most of the team are out of the building, while some have taken an early leave. London has been deceptively, worryingly quiet, with only the usual crazies and the bomb-mad disaffected in the population creating a ripple through an otherwise busy and clamourous holiday season.

"Dimitri," she says quickly once he answers, there being no time for the niceties. She quickly describes the situation to him. "I'm about to ring the hotel so that they can have their own security staff on standby."

"I'm on my way," Dimitri says. Erin had heard him call out to Tony. "I don't know why we didn't think of keeping tabs on Ruth from the time she left."

"Because Harry specifically asked us not to."

Erin hears the engine of Dimitri's car kick over, and then a few quiet words being exchanged between him and Tony, one of their junior field officers, who has been shaping up well under Dimitri's tutelage.

"There's another thing," Erin says quietly, knowing that Dimitri is concentrating on driving through heavy traffic. "Ruth has a child with her – a baby of around twelve months of age."

"Jesus," Dimitri breathes, "does Harry know about this?"

"I … suspect he does. It's my guess that he is the child's father."

"Yeah, I'd thought the same thing," and Dimitri hangs up.

Erin's next call is to the hotel. Speaking to the security chief at the hotel, she discovers that one of the lifts has stalled between the second and third floors, and the front desk has received a call from a `man with a French accent' making certain demands. "We've already cleared the foyer, and have security staff on all of the ground floor, and the second and third floors. We can't seem to get the lift to move, which means it's being electronically jammed from -"

"- an external source," Erin finished for him. "Are you aware that the woman hostage has a child with her?"

"No," said the security chief, "that has not been mentioned, and we have not heard sound of a child down the phone."

Erin then informed the security chief of the brief history of Regnier, chiefly his background as a member of the French security service, and him having had a probable history with her own current section head. "He's currently on leave, but I'm about to contact him. There are at least two members of the security service due at your hotel within minutes. Please give them free rein to act as required. The woman in the lift with her .. abductor is former security service."

Her next phone call is to Harry Pearce.

* * *

Harry has just locked the front door of his house, and is on his way to his car, an overnight bag in his hand, when he receives the call. "What is it, Erin?" he says, irritation clear in his voice.

"You need to listen carefully," Erin begins, and she gives him a brief summary of what she knows about Ruth's abduction.

When she finishes, Harry is silent for some time. When he does speak his voice sounds tight. "She's being held hostage," he says, his voice surprisingly calm, given what Erin suspects of his relationship with Ruth.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because eighteen years ago Regnier's wife was accidentally shot and killed by a member of the German security service, and Regnier has always believed the shooter to be me. At the time the shooting occurred I was in London, and in a meeting with our Foreign Secretary. Alain Regnier warned me that if I ever married, he would come after my wife, and kill her in front of me."

"But … Harry, you're not married .. are you?"

Erin hears a pause as Harry weighs up how much he can tell her. "Ruth and I have been married for fifteen months. We decided to keep our marriage secret because .. of the possibility of situations such as this."

Erin hears the surge of the car engine as Harry starts the car. "How do you think he found out?" she says, her mind racing ahead of her, but getting nowhere.

"I wish I knew. I'm going straight there, Erin, and you need to remain on the Grid to ..."

"I'm coordinating, and Tariq is keeping electronic surveillance on the situation at the Sir Walter Raleigh, although the CCTV inside the lift is not operating."

"Right," Harry replies, "then we're doing all we can .. at least, for now."

* * *

Erin crosses the Grid floor (for what feels like the thousandth time) to speak with Tariq, who is busily following the events at The Sir Walter Raleigh Hotel. "Any change?" she asks him hopefully.

"Sorry, no," he says, glancing up at her quickly, and then dropping his eyes to his monitor, on which four different live feeds from the CCTV cameras at the hotel show a number of security staff either side of the doors to the lift in which Alain Regnier is holding Ruth and her daughter. There is no sign of progress, just a lot of waiting.

"I have another search for you to set up, but you appear to have your hands full. We need to know how it is Regnier knows about Ruth and Harry being married."

Erin's words bring a startled expression to Tariq's face. "Really?"

Erin nods. "Someone knows, and we need to find out who, and how it is they found out."

"I have to keep my eye on this, Erin, but someone needs to check out Regnier's family and close associates."

"I seem to remember he has a son, so perhaps we could begin with him," Erin suggests.

"I could give that job to Marley."

Ah, Marley. The girl who already knows absolutely everything. Twenty-five years old, and with nothing more to learn. "Is she the best you have, Tariq?"

"Next to me, yes. She's thorough and she thrives on challenge."

Erin can't argue with that. Does the amazing Marley also turn water into wine? Erin could do with a bucket of it right about now. "Right. I'll get on to Harry. Just keep an eye on her, won't you, Tariq."

"Sure," he says, but he isn't really listening.

* * *

In the end, it is Alec White whose actions save the day. Dimitri had rung him with the outline of what had happened to Ruth. "I need you at the hotel," Dimitri had said, trusting Alec's `old dog' instincts as much as his own. Around three minutes later Dimitri had rung Alec back. "Change of plan," he'd said. "I need you to get into the girlfriend's flat, and see if you can find anything incriminating .. or anything at all, really. We need something to draw out Regnier, and we're stuck. He's been talking to the chief of hotel security, and he's doing little more than playing a game of cat and mouse."

"I'm sitting outside the flat as you speak. I thought I'd check it out first."

"Then get yourself inside. I don't care how you do it, but gain entry."

Alec mentally rubs his hands together. Illegal entry to a residence; possible confrontation with the resident; thinking on his feet. His favourite things in the world. He has always loved being a spy. It's the rules, or more accurately, his resistance to following the rules, which had been his downfall, plus the early morning starts. Alec's metabolism barely kicks in until after midday.

Abby Rocher has a good job as a data entry analyst for one of the financiers in the City, so why she had chosen to live in such a run-down building is bewildering to Alec. He also lives in a run-down flat, but with one ex-wife and several ex-girlfriends later, he is minus two houses and a rather nice flat in North London. Bitter? Not at all. Just older and much wiser.

Alec circumvents the building until he reaches the window at the rear of the flat, the one which overlooks the back yard, little more than a large expanse of concrete. He could knock on the back door, but that would only alert anyone inside to his presence. A blind covers the window from inside, so he cannot be seen, so he scratches on the window with his fingernail, and then grabs a stick from ground and draws it along the brickwork beneath the window. Then he stands with his back flush against the wall beside the back door, and waits, his eyes turned towards the door. As expected, the door opens, and a face looks out.

Alec acts quickly, pushing the young man back into the flat, until his opponent's back is against a wall. Elbow against the younger man's Adam's apple, he speaks, his face so close he see the panic in the other man's eyes. "Who are you?" Alec says roughly, already having a fair idea.

* * *

Harry had arrived at the hotel, entering by the tradesman's entrance, and then he'd climbed the stairs at the rear until he reached the third floor. Dimitri nods, and then moves closer to him before speaking.

"You'd best stay out of the way for now," the younger man says in a low voice, his eyes intermittently darting to the closed doors of the lifts half way along the corridor.

Harry nods. He has no intention of getting himself shot by this lunatic. "Do you know what weapons he's carrying?"

Dimitri shakes his head. "One of the hotel security staff has phone contact with Regnier, but he hasn't told her much, other than he needs you to be here while he shoots Ruth, so … we can assume he has some kind of firearm."

"And my daughter?"

Dimitri doesn't flinch, or react in any way to Harry's question, other than a reassuring, "Regnier has said that the little girl is still asleep."

"How long is it since he abducted Ruth?"

"According to Tariq, it was a bit over fifty minutes ago."

"And he hasn't done anything?"

Dimitri hesitates before answering. "He's waiting for you to appear, which is why you need to remain here, out of his line of sight should the lift door open. I'm about to get closer, and I'll get Tony to do the same on the second floor."

Dimitri is surprised when Harry nods. The older man must be panicking, but he gives off the pretence of calm. Suddenly, taking him by surprise, Dimitri's phone rings. He takes it from his pocket and frowns when he sees the caller display. "Alec?" he says. "What have you found?" Dimitri looks up to see his boss's eyes displaying a glimmer of interest. He listens to Alec before relaying Alec's news to Harry. "I suspect this is good news," he says. "Alec is at the girlfriend's flat with Charlie Regnier, son of Alain. Charlie is a hacker -"

"Hacker?"

"He hacks into systems to steal information, and then sells it on the dark web."

"Dear God. Is nothing safe?"

"Not very, no, but the good news – or the less bad news – is that it's Charlie who is operating the lift remotely from the flat in Ilford, and Alec has suggested that the lad convince his father to let the baby go. To do that Charlie has to move the lift to the third floor, and then open the door."

Harry becomes more animated. "Will it work?"

"We don't know, but it won't help Alain's cause were he to hurt your daughter."

Harry nods. Given the situation, the cooperation of Regnier Junior is necessary. Without that, they were like a blind man stumbling around in a room with no windows. He waits while Dimitri stays on the phone, intermittently exchanging information with Alec. Who knew Alec White to be skilled at negotiation? He had been once, but with the chaos in his personal life, and his increasing alcohol consumption, Alec had lost his edge. He is still skilled at surveillance, and perhaps his having to deal with the son of Alain Regnier alone is just the challenge the man needs.

Harry can't lie to himself. He is frightened. He is frightened for Ruth, and he is frightened for his daughter. Were he to lose either of them, his life would be shattered. Were he to lose them both, he would not want to go on. Harry signals to Dimitri that he needs to speak with Alec, and so Dimitri hands over the phone.

"Alec, it's Harry."

"Harry. I hadn't expected you. I thought you were -"

"Listen to me. Is Regnier's son a reasonable man?"

"It seems so. I think I can," and he lowers his voice, so the other man cannot hear, "convince him to talk to his father, and perhaps to … talk him down."

"He needs to know that it wasn't me who killed Alain's wife. I had already returned to London when it happened. I have proof of that, and can show him."

Harry waits while Alec relays the message to Charlie Regnier. A brief discussion follows. "Charlie wants to know who it was shot his mother."

"I was told at the time that the shooter was a member of the German security service called Detlef Holst. He bore a … slight resemblance to me at the time, and then word got around that it was me who killed her. Unfortunately, Holst died while on an operation in Iraq in 2003."

Again Harry waits while Alec relays the message to the younger Regnier. There is a long moment of silence, and then Harry hears Charlie Regnier say quite clearly, in a lightly accented voice. "I will tell my father, but first he must release the child. I don't want blood to be spilled any more than you do. You must know that when I agreed to do this, I believed he would just hold her until her husband appeared. I hadn't expected … this."

"Did you hear that?" Alec says.

"I did. I'll hand you back to Dimitri."

* * *

To Erin's surprise, Marley has quickly sifted through all the information she could find on Alain Regnier. "There's quite a bit," she says, glancing up at Erin nervously, "but I think the most important person in his life must he his son, Charlie, who was only seven when the wife was killed. Charlie regularly visits London, and stays in the flat of Regnier's girlfriend, who works long hours, so the flat is empty during the day. It appears that the son has been in London for the last three weeks. It seems likely he has some kind of electronic set up in the flat, and he prefers working from there, especially since the French police have been sniffing around his flat in Reims."

Tariq, overhearing the conversation between Erin and Marley, interrupts. "Sorry, but I've just had a quick phone conversation with Tony. Alec is at the flat with Charlie Regnier."

"Charlie Regnier is a hacker," Marley adds, not wanting to be sidelined.

"Good work. Both of you." Erin is impressed. "Is anyone on comms?"

"Unfortunately no," Tariq replies. "Tony and Dimitri were just on a regular surveillance of the flat, and Alec has been on surveillance nearby. Neither job was considered high priority."

"Until now." Erin twists her mouth as she thinks ahead. "Dimitri has told me that Alec is attempting to convince Charlie to get his father to back down."

"Alec?" Tariq adds with some distaste.

"He was once very skilled at negotiation," Erin replies. "We need to have faith in him."

"Okay," says Tariq, lifting his head so that Erin can see his brown eyes above the top of the monitor.

Her team have worked well today. She is proud of them, and she hopes Harry will have cause to be proud of them also. Suddenly she is distracted by the ringtone of her mobile phone, which she takes from the pocket of her jacket. "Erin speaking," she says, followed by, "Calum. How are things in Leicester?"

* * *

Harry waits near an alcove, a distance of around twenty metres from the lifts, watching while Dimitri approaches the lift, and removes his firearm from its holster. Less than ten minutes have passed since Charlie Regnier had promised to attempt coaxing his father to back down and let the baby go. Every muscle in his body is tightly wound. He opens his mouth to move his jaw from side to side in an attempt to release some of the tension. He has been in situations similar to this countless times, but this time his whole life, his love, his happiness is at stake. He watches, barely breathing, as the door to the lift slowly opens and the stroller containing his precious daughter is pushed from the lift.

Harry watches as Dimitri stands facing the open door of the lift, his hands holding his Glock 17 pistol in front of his face, his eyes trained on the doorway. Harry waits while the lift door again closes, and then he jogs across the carpet to where his daughter is sitting in her stroller, awake now, her eyes frightened, her mouth open as if she is about to let out a howl. Then she sees Harry, and she calls out, half plea, half cry, "Dadda," she says. Harry bends down to remove the straps which hold her firm in her stroller, then picks her up, dropping William the penguin on the carpet. The child bursts into tears. "Dadda, Dadda," she whimpers, as Harry holds her against his body.


	2. Chapter 2

_Harry waits while the lift door again closes, and then he jogs across the carpet to where his daughter is sitting in her stroller, awake now, her eyes frightened, her mouth open as if she is about to let out a howl. Then she sees Harry, and she calls out, half shout and half cry, "Dadda," she says. Harry bends down to remove the straps which hold her firm in her stroller, then picks her up, dropping William the penguin on the carpet. The child bursts into tears. "Dadda, Dadda," she whimpers, as Harry holds her against his body._

Harry is still holding his daughter to him, one arm around her, while his other hand strokes her blond curls, his lips pressed against the top of her head. The child has stopped crying, her head nestled against his chest as she looks around her warily. When Harry looks up, Dimitri is standing nearby, but not too close, his eyes on the two of them. A quick glance at the lift reassures him that the door is still closed. "I take it you hadn't a clear shot," Harry says, his hand still stroking his daughter's hair.

Dimitri shakes his head. "Regnier was holding Ruth in front of him, his pistol pointed towards me, and he pushed the stroller through the door with his foot."

Harry takes a deep breath and looks away for a moment, needing to stay calm for the sake of his daughter. He feels the little girl stir in his arms as she turns to gaze at Dimitri. "Charlotte, this is Dimitri," Harry says gently. "Dimitri, this is my daughter, Charlotte Grace."

Dimitri finds most children frightening. He has difficulty communicating with Erin's daughter, Rosie, even though she's seven, and can hold her own in a conversation with most adults. He nods towards the little girl, curbing the urge to reach out to shake her hand. "Hello, Charlotte. I know your dad and mum."

The child stares at Dimitri, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown so much like Harry's that Dimitri has to stifle a laugh, while Harry lifts his eyebrows. "How did she seem to you?" Harry asks.

"Ruth?"

"Yes, Ruth."

"I only caught a quick look at her, but … she looked scared, Harry. Regnier had his hand over her mouth, so she couldn't speak."

Harry nods. Of course Ruth would be scared. It's over a year and a half since she took extended leave from the service. Being a mother has softened her, their daughter's birth having changed them both at a fundamental level. Neither of them are the people they'd been before Charlotte was born. Their priorities have changed. Harry then looks around him, and seeing Tony on his phone asks, "Who's he talking to?" .

"I've given him the job of keeping tabs on Alec ... and the kid."

"The _kid_?"

"Charlie Regnier is Alain's son. He's twenty-five. It seems he has some influence with his father."

"So what's next?" Harry should be able to trust his team, and he does, but he's not happy leaving all the decision making to others, especially when it is his wife and daughter who are involved.

Dimitri twists his mouth sideways. "We wait. Regnier's son will either convince his father to let Ruth go, or he will have the door opened so that you can watch him kill Ruth."

Harry drops his eyes, and tightly clenches his jaw, not appreciating that particular word image. "I can't claim to know Regnier at all. Our paths crossed briefly only once, but whatever fire he possessed eighteen years ago will have tempered with the passing of the years. We all calm down eventually."

"Even you?"

"Especially me, and it will happen to you, too, Dimitri."

Dimitri nods. He thinks that Harry is in a weird mood. "I believe that him having allowed .. Charlotte out of the lift is a good sign. It usually means that he's considering his options."

"Does he know I'm here?" Harry asks, turning his eyes to Dimitri. Both men are slowly walking away from the lift, as two members of hotel security take their place in front of the door.

"He hasn't asked, although his first demand was to get you here so that he could kill Ruth while you watched."

"This son .. the hacker," Harry says carefully, "would have us all on CCTV, surely."

"I'd say so."

"So, he either would have told his father that I'm here, on the third floor, or not."

"And I'm hoping he hasn't. Tony is in charge of liaising with Alec and the kid. Alec seems to think Regnier's son is okay, but it's also possible he's pulling the wool over Alec's eyes, and ours also."

Harry grasps Charlotte closer to his chest in an unconscious gesture of protection. "The fact that he has been in there so long is a good sign," he says gruffly. "Had he been certain that killing Ruth was justified, he would have done it soon after they entered the lift, regardless of whether I was present or not." Harry has spoken more to reassure himself than to inform Dimitri, who is capable of coming to the same conclusion. Suddenly Harry feels Charlotte wriggling in his arms, as though trying to get down. "I can't let you run around, sweetheart," he says quietly against her cheek, but still she wriggles, and then lets out a loud cry, her arm reaching behind them. Harry follows her eyes, and there on the carpet beside the stroller is William, the penguin. "Could you, Dimitri?" he asks. "That green monstrosity is her favourite comfort toy."

Dimitri jogs back to opposite the lift, and grabs both William and the stroller, bringing them to Harry. He lifts the green penguin to hand it to Charlotte, and she snatches it from his fingers, giving him a dark look, as though it was his fault she'd dropped it in the first place. "You look a lot like your dad," he says to her, and again Charlotte frowns at him, and then turns her head and nestles against Harry, the penguin tucked under one arm.

"That comment may come back to bite you," Harry says quietly. "Like her mother, I suspect Charlotte of having a very long memory."

They are interrupted by Tony, who waves his hand to get their attention. "Progress, I think," he says, once Harry, holding Charlotte, and Dimitri reach his side.

* * *

"Charlie ..." Alec has been surprised, and even shocked by the naivete demonstrated by this young man. Charlie Regnier turns from where he has been messing around with coffee cups, milk and sugar, to look in Alec's general direction, his eyes not quite meeting Alec's. The young man displays a rare innocence, and only very briefly has he given Alec direct eye contact, and then only for a moment. "My suggestion is that since your father appears to be listening to you, you could .. perhaps .."

".. take advantage of that? I do have a brain, you know."  
Alec turns away. He has to be careful to not patronise Charlie. After all, his father was once DCSI, the French equivalent of Mi5, and according to legend, he was good, a hard and ruthless spy. Were he still that good, Ruth would already be dead. His son, on the other hand, spends so much time in the virtual world that he has only a tenuous grasp on the world his father and the rest of the world inhabit.

Soon after Alec had entered the flat, having assured Charlie that he meant him no harm, he had reached out to shake hands with the younger man. Charlie had looked at Alec's hand with distaste, visibly pulling away. "I don't … actually _touch_ people," he'd said. "It's not … comfortable for me."

"Okay." _Whatever you want, sunshine_ , Alec had thought.

"I'm not weird or anything."

"Of course not."

Charlie had uttered an exasperated sigh, shaking his head a little. "I'm on the autism spectrum."

"What has that to do with anything?"

"It means ..." and the younger man had pushed past Alec to sit at his desk, on which sat a computer system, along with three monitors. "It means I have difficulty reading people's non-verbal signals, and I don't handle well any level of chaos. As a result, I am prone to … freaking out a bit, and some people find that uncomfortable, and react badly in return."

 _No shit._ Alec was about to sit in the chair next to where Charlie sat at his work station, chiefly to watch him work, but Charlie had seen his hand grasp the chair. "Don't sit there," he had said, his voice sharp, "that chair has to stay like that, next to me, so that I can see it in my peripheral vision. You can sit on the other chair," and Alec had had to sit behind Charlie's left shoulder, out of his line of sight.

For just under an hour, Alec has watched Charlie working, and discovers he is quick and knowledgeable, although his understanding of why his father wants Ruth Evershed dead is sketchy. "I do what my father says," Charlie has explained. "There's just the two of us, and he looks after me, so I … reciprocate in this way. I have learned to not ask questions. My father always has his reasons, even if I don't understand them."

Alec suspects that Charlie's responses have been conditioned over time. "You must understand that if he goes through with this, and kills her, there are around six people outside that lift waiting to take him out," Alec observes, while Charlie continues to mess around with the jar of coffee and the mugs and spoons.

Charlie glances across the room at him, surprise in his eyes. "I'm sure that won't happen," he replies, quickly dropping his eyes once more to where the electric kettle is heating, and close to boiling.

"Why not?"

"Because immediately after he shoots the woman, his plan is to shoot himself."

Alec sighs heavily. Another dumb plan formulated by a man too damaged by life to see that his actions would change nothing. "What will you do .. if he kills himself?"

"What do you mean?" Charlie's eyes are on the kettle, waiting for it to boil.

"You'll have no-one to look after you."

"Abby will look after me. She'll let me live here .. with her."

"And if she meets another man?"

Charlie briefly shows agitation, his hands moving quickly from the cups to the spoons, to the coffee jar, and then back again. "I hadn't considered that .. possibility."

"Then my suggestion is that you convince your father to skip the middle bit, and just let her go. She's an innocent party in this. She's a mum, and a wife."

"So was my mother."

"Killing Ruth Evershed will not bring back your mother, Charlie. At the end of the day, your mother will still be dead."

Charlie stares at the wall above where the electric kettle has just boiled, and then shut off automatically, bringing silence to the room. The young man's jaw is moving from side to side, his fingertips tapping out a quick rhythm on the surface of the bench. Alec is almost able to see the cogs turning in his head, as he considers the wisdom or otherwise of what his father is about to do. Alec knows his reasoning has hit home when Charlie turns towards him and says, "What do you suggest I say to my father?"

Alec pulls out Charlie's chair, the one in which he sits at his computer. "Come and sit down," he says. "We can drink all the coffee we like once this is over."

* * *

Erin has spent the best part of the last hour hovering beside Tariq's desk, her anxiety evident in her frequent movements between Tariq's work station and the desk occupied by Marley. Tariq has one of his monitors devoted to CCTV feeds from within the hotel. The monitor screen is split into four, with two views from each of the third and second floors. In the lower foreground of one of the feeds from the third floor, Erin is able to see the back of Harry's head. Every now and again he turns to walk a little way in one direction, and then back again, his small daughter in his arms, while he gently pats her back, and appears to speak to her, his mouth close to her ear. Although the CCTV image is not terribly sharp, the baby's features are clear – a curly-haired little girl with large eyes and a full mouth, one arm curved around what looks like a toy penguin. Erin can't help the smile which softens her features. Even the hardest of men can be tamed.

Noticing her staring at the feeds from the hotel corridor, Tariq smiles at her. "It's hard to believe, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Harry. With a baby."

"He already has two grown children, Tariq."

"Yeah, but … he was a young man back then. Now, he's … not. It should be Dimitri and me having babies."

 _God forbid!_ "I don't think there's a time limit for men having babies."

"Can you imagine it? When his little girl starts to bring boys home to meet her parents, Harry'll be ringing me, asking me to check them out."

"Given he'll be in his mid to late seventies by then, Tariq, I'm not sure he'll bother."

"I suppose not. She's got her work cut out for her, though."

"Who has?"

"The little girl. What's her name?"

"I have no idea. I don't think anyone has mentioned it."

"She'll have to watch everything she says, and the people she hangs out with. Imagine both your parents being spies. The poor kid's drawn the short straw there."

Erin's attention is caught by activity on the CCTV feed – the third floor. "Something's happening," she says, sitting up straight, and leaning forward in her chair.

* * *

"Good work, Charlie," Alec says, reaching out to pat the lad on the shoulder, but withdrawing his hand just in time. Having Charlie `freak out' is not something he wishes to see. The young man is intense enough in his state of calm. To witness him losing his cool completely would be out of Alec's narrow band of experiences with others of the species.

Charlie turns to briefly connect eye to eye with Alec, the slightest of smiles curving the edges of his mouth. "I have put the lift at the third floor, and the controls are now in his hands. It's up to _Papa_ now. All I wish for is that no blood be shed. I can't abide blood."

* * *

Harry turns as he hears the sound of the lift motor, a low whirring sound. This is an old building, and the lifts are pre-1960, but with updated controls. Then there is the ding as the lift car stops. Dimitri is already standing opposite the closed door of the lift, his Glock at the ready. He quickly turns to look at Harry. "In the alcove," he says roughly, tipping his head in the direction of the small alcove in the wall, where they have agreed Harry and Charlotte can hide should Regnier leave the lift. Harry does as he's told, holding Charlotte close to his body, humming softly against her ear.

He presses his back against the wall inside the alcove. Such indentations in the walls of the corridor occur at regular intervals, and are generally used as places for large potted plants, such as palms and aspidistras. The plant which once occupied this particular alcove had been moved soon after he had arrived, stressed and worried about both Ruth and Charlotte. With his daughter safe and in his arms, his world is almost right, but not quite. The outcome for Ruth balances on whether Alain Regnier, after all these years, still possesses any shred of human compassion.

Suddenly from the direction of the lift he hears a muffled scream – a woman's scream, Ruth's scream – closely followed by the sharp report of pistol fire. Another Glock, probably acquired illegally in France. Harry feels Charlotte jump in his arms, and she lifts her head to look towards the sounds. He is sure she recognises her mother's voice.

Harry can't help himself. Not trusting anyone else to look after his daughter, he turns Charlotte so that she can only look over his shoulder, and places his free hand against the back of her head, ensuring that she can't turn her head. Then he quickly leaves the alcove, heading towards where Dimitri stands, his pistol still trained on the closed door of the lift. He ignores Harry. The younger man's body is wound up like a spring, ready to fire.

Then the door opens slowly, revealing one person standing, ready to step from the lift.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dimitri stands, his pistol still trained on the closed door of the lift. He ignores Harry. The younger man's body is wound up like a spring, ready to fire._

 _Then the door opens slowly, revealing one person standing, ready to step from the lift._

Harry can't believe what he is seeing. Beside him, Dimitri relaxes and drops his arms, before sliding his firearm back into the holster inside his jacket. Then he smiles. "Never in my life have I been so relieved to see you, Evershed."

"Mrs Valentine to you, Dimitri. It's good to see you, too."

"Right." Remembering Harry's presence, Dimitri turns to check that Harry hasn't passed out with shock, then he looks beyond Harry to where two of the hotel's own security staff are approaching. "Call an ambulance," he calls out to them, his arm raised, his fingers indicating the numbers. "One down and one now free."

Harry, whilst enormously relieved to see Ruth unharmed, is having trouble sorting out in his head what must have happened in the lift just prior to its opening. Ruth looks nervous .. and stunned … and weary, but Harry, knowing her as he does, sees the shadow of fear in her eyes, as she stares ahead of her, apparently taking in very little. She gives Dimitri a nervous little smile, and then when she spies Harry and Charlotte, her shoulders slump with relief.

In the brief seconds before he approaches Ruth, he looks past her into the lift to see the walls spattered with blood, and other matter. On the floor of the lift the prone body of Alain Regnier lies, a pistol beside his outstretched hand, his body twisted around itself, with his feet underneath him, his bloodied head turned at an unnatural angle. Harry knows a dead body when he sees one. In his arms Charlotte is squirming, struggling to turn in his arms so that she can look at her mother, whose voice she has heard. Harry gains eye contact with Ruth and tips his head to one side, a gesture familiar to her. He needs her to quickly move away from the lift so that Charlotte can greet her.

Once they are further along the corridor, ten or so metres from the lift, and the gaggle of people who have gathered to confer about the afternoon's events, Harry loosens his hold on his daughter. "Mumma," the child says, leaning dangerously towards Ruth, both arms held out to her. Harry still holds Charlotte with one arm, and with the other he gathers Ruth to him.

"Careful," she says, "there's blood all down my back."

While Charlotte has managed to grasp her mother's face, pressing her nose against Ruth's cheek, Harry reaches down to kiss Ruth on the mouth. "It's so good to have you back," he says, resting his forehead against her own.

"And it's so good to be back. Can we go to our room now? I desperately need a shower and a change of clothes."

* * *

Alec doesn't know what to say. `Congratulations' sounds so callous and cruel, even to his own ears, which had long ago become inured to bad news. Charlie is sitting in his chair, his eyes on the middle monitor, his body very still. "Was it my fault?" he says at last, his voice very small.

"We discussed this, Charlie, and you knew that your dad was planning to take his life, no matter what prior action he took."

Alec sees Charlie's shoulders move as he sighs. "I was hoping he might, just this once, think of me."

 _Jesus._ Were the bastard not already dead, Alec would have gone to the hotel and shot him himself. What a self-centred and cowardly act. Thankfully, Alec had never wanted children of his own, had never understood what drove others to make carbon copies of themselves. In the world around him there are already too many children with parents who either don't or can't care for them, and Alec knows he'd have made a terrible father. His own father had been away more than he'd been home, and when he had been home, he'd been angry, a distant man with a hair trigger temper. "I think your dad must have missed your mother too much."

Alec's words have Charlie swivelling his chair to face him. " _Papa_ was all I had, and I was all he had. It was selfish of him to end his life in this way. I may never forgive him," and he turns back to his monitors, watching the unfolding of the clean up on the third floor of the Sir Walter Raleigh Hotel.

Alec feels powerless. He'd like it were he able to come up with some clever line which might soothe the soul of this young man, to take away his pain, so that he can face the world alone, but he has no such words. Situations such as this are as uncomfortable for him as they clearly are for Charlie. He feels like a small fishing boat adrift on a very large ocean. His response to tragedy has always been to self-medicate. "I'll stay here and keep you company if you like," he says quietly, "at least until Abby arrives home."

Alec watches Charlie's back, and when the young man nods, Alec breathes more freely.

* * *

Ruth and Harry had no reason to remain on the third floor, so they had taken the stairs to their room on the fifth floor. Ruth is in the shower, washing away her ordeal, while Harry feeds Charlotte an early supper – a boiled egg with soldiers - and then changes her nappy, and dresses her in a gro suit, ready for bed. He sits on the bed, with her between his knees, singing to her, holding her small hands in his, clapping them together in a rhythm which matches the tempo of his song – _Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full._ When Charlotte yawns, he stops. Noting that Ruth has been in the shower for over twenty minutes, he puts Charlotte in her portacot, places William firmly in her arms, and then holds up his hand in a `stay' gesture, before he remembers that perhaps his daughter won't automatically understand what that means. "I'm just going to check on Mummy, sweetheart. Don't go anywhere." Charlotte lies back against her pillow, William in her arms, apparently disinterested.

Harry knocks on the bathroom door, and hearing nothing but the splash of water on the tiles, he carefully opens the door to see a naked Ruth sitting in the shower alcove, water pouring over her head and shoulders, her back curved against the tiles, her arms holding her knees to her chest. He rushes to her, turns off the shower, and then bends down, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. Ruth lifts her eyes to his, and written on her face is all the terror and fear and uncertainty she had suppressed while locked in that lift with her would-be killer. "Ruth," he says, and she lifts her arms for him to reach around her and pull her to her feet.

"Hold me," is all she says, and so he helps her to her feet, and pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her. If he could, he would have drawn her into his body in a bid to keep her safe forever.

He begins a rocking motion, his cheek pressed against hers, his lips close to her ear. "You're safe now," he says, and they both know that such words are empty, spoken more in hope than from any reality they inhabit. Perhaps she would never be safe, perhaps this was to be the repeated cycle throughout their lives.

Then Ruth speaks the words they have both been thinking. "At least he didn't come for Charlotte," she says. "He hadn't expected her to be with me." She pulls away slightly, to gain eye contact with him. "He told me that he has never killed children, and wasn't about to begin now."

"Big of him," Harry growls, grasping her closer to him once more.

They are interrupted by a loud cry of "Dadda! Wim!"

Reluctantly they pull away from one another. "Where is she?" Ruth asks.

"In her cot, and I'll bet she threw William out, just so that I'd have to pick him up and hand him back to her."

"You've personalised a stuffed toy, Harry. He's not the real thing, you know."

"I've a good mind to throw William out the window."

"And break your daughter's heart?"

"That's low, Ruth." He smiles into her eyes, relieved to have his wife back. The probability that he could so easily lose her had paralysed him with rage and fear, and a preemptive sense of loss.

Ruth steps away from him, her eyes taking in his wet shirt and trousers. "I've made you all wet." Her words have him staring at her in an altogether improper way.

"I'll change out of these while you get dressed -" he says.

"And I'll put something on."

"I think that's best."

* * *

Dimitri had left the scene soon after Ruth and Harry had taken their daughter to their fifth floor room. He's not sure why they're staying in a hotel room when Harry's house is only a few miles away, but he suspects their reason has something to do with the hotel being a safer place than their house. So much for well laid plans. As he enters the Grid, he sees Erin, Tariq and the new technical girl in Harry's office. He knocks on the door frame and then enters.

"How are things at the hotel?" Erin asks, indicating that he should sit in the chair Marley has just vacated.

Dimitri nods to Marley. In his opinion she's young and a bit full of herself, but so long as she does her job well, he has no cause for complaint. "The police have taken over the scene. Regnier's body was being photographed and examined by their SOCO team. I'm happy for them to be there."

"I'll need you to write a report, Dimitri," Erin says, her expression having not changed. "The police will treat it like the crime it is, but we have the whole back story."

"We do?"

"Harry does, and what he doesn't know, Alec can fill in."

"You want me to interview Harry?"

"And Ruth."

"When?"

"Tonight, if possible. The sooner the better. It won't be long before the police come sniffing around, wanting information -"

"- which we can't give them."

Erin waits, contemplating his words. "No, we can't."

"I'd rather wait until morning to interview Ruth and Harry. Their baby will need feeding … and all that other stuff, and I think Ruth might need to spend the evening away from … us."

Again, Erin waits before speaking. The extended periods of time with Harry away from the Grid, leaving her to fill his shoes, have taught her to take more time over these kinds of decisions, and to listen to the members of her team .. Harry's team. "Did you get to speak to either of them?"

"I spoke a bit to Harry. He introduced me to their little girl."

"What's her name?"

"What?" Dimitri is surprised by Erin's question, which is a bit out of left field in his opinion. "Her name is Charlotte."

"How was she after the ordeal?"

"Oh, you know kids. She just wanted her mum and dad."

"You'll need to arrange a time with Harry. First thing in the morning would be best, while the memory is still fresh."

Dimitri knew he was being dismissed, but he had more to say. "Do we know anything about this guy's son?"

Erin lifted her eyes to him, surprised to find him still there. "Alec is still with the son. He's getting back to me later this evening."

"Right," and having nothing more to contribute, Dimitri leaves the office, nodding to Tariq, who had not spoken during the time Dimitri was in the office.

* * *

Ruth sits on the bed, leaning her back against two pillows, Charlotte feeding at her breast. It is her favourite time of day – first thing in the morning after Charlotte wakes, and last thing in the evening before the child goes to bed. At Ruth's invitation Harry sits on the bed beside her, watching the miraculous tableau of his wife breastfeeding their small daughter. He rarely shared such moments with his first two children, but then, he was hardly ever home, and when he was, he was distracted and irritable, not the kind of companion his wife had needed. This time he is older and much wiser, and he couldn't be happier. Charlotte is their little miracle - unexpected, but very welcome. He gazes fondly upon them both, Ruth's eyes on Charlotte, whose eyes are closed, her sucking motion now intermittent as she nears sleep.

"I never tire of this," Ruth says, "even when I'm worn out, like today."

"Me neither," he says quietly.

Having Charlotte in his life has made Harry more contemplative than usual. When Ruth had knocked on his back door during the third week of his suspension just over twenty-one months ago, neither of them could possibly have imagined an outcome such as this. He had welcomed her into his home, wary at first of her reasons for being there. She had brought him a casserole, and he had invited her to share it with him, after which she had politely taken her leave by the back door. It was on her third or fourth visit that he had invited her to stay, and she had hesitated, his heart beating like a bird's, while she carefully considered his question. She had not stayed that night, citing an early meeting the next morning as her reason, but she had on her next visit, and then several more nights after that, until the hearing, and his return to work. They had continued their liaison in secret, until the day, around a month later, when Ruth had shared with him the news of her pregnancy. He'd been shocked, although why that was is still a mystery to him, given they had been having regular and unprotected sex for several weeks. They had had to promptly adjust to the news, and to make some quick decisions, although for him, the outcome was always going to be the same. He had never expected to have more children, and so had never contemplated the possibility that one day he may. With the mother of his child being Ruth, the prospect of late life fatherhood was both a joy and cause for panic. Ruth and he were barely in a relationship, so parenting a child together for the next eighteen or twenty years would be a challenge on so many levels, but one he was willing to take on.

Harry suspects that since he and Ruth had met all those years ago, Charlotte had always been there with them, waiting in the wings, hoping they would notice her. He imagines her hovering around them during all those years they'd danced around one another, patiently waiting, encouraging them to come together – whispering to him, giving Ruth the occasional gentle shove in his direction. He imagines her despair, similar to his own, when Ruth had gone into exile, expecting never to return. That this little one had persisted, eventually bringing them together, has made him happy at last, and grateful.

Three months later he had asked her to marry him, and this time, after some tense days of waiting for her answer, she had agreed that perhaps marriage was their best option, and best done in secret, and preferably before the baby was born. And so that is what they had done, Ruth already having taken leave to live in the country, in a cottage he had already purchased near the coast north of Felixstowe. Harry had continued working, but had insisted he have his weekends free to spend with Ruth.

"You're thinking. You get that look when you're thinking."

Harry refocuses his eyes on her, and leans towards her to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "Yes, I was thinking. I was thinking how lucky we are .. how incredibly lucky I am."

"I'll bet you weren't thinking that two hours ago."

"No, I wasn't."

Ruth pulls Charlotte off her nipple, and pulls her shirt closed. Harry smiles at the sight of Charlotte's tongue still making a sucking motion. "I'll take her," he says, "and then I'll order our dinner."

He carefully places Charlotte in her cot, along with the unnerving William, and has just covered them both with a blanket when his phone rings. "Could you answer that?" he asks Ruth, so she does. He watches while she listens for a moment, and then covers the phone.

"It's Dimitri. He wants to interview us in the morning." Harry nods. He'd rather like to have the day's events behind them, so the sooner they are interviewed, the better. Ruth quickly arranges a time for Dimitri to visit, and then places the phone back on the bedside table. "Dimitri needs a child," she says.

Harry's shocked expression surprises her. "Not everyone needs children, Ruth."

"I suppose not."

Harry smiles, crossing the floor to stand close to her. "When I introduced Charlotte to him, I swear Dimitri was afraid of her."

"Did she offer him one of her frowns?"

He smiles, placing his hands on her waist. "She did."

"Good. That means she'll scare off all but the very brave."

* * *

"What did she say?" Alec ventures, once Charlie has ended the call to Abby Rocher.

Charlie looks across the deceptively large kitchen at Alec, again not quite meeting his eyes. Alec has noticed that Charlie's eyes tend to focus on his chin, or his ear, but rarely his eyes. On the table, still in its cardboard box, is a takeaway pizza, ordered by Charlie, paid for by Alec. "She didn't say much. I .. got the impression that she wasn't surprised. Her first comment was, `Alain has always had a death wish.' Don't you find that strange?"

"Strange that he had a death wish, or strange that Abby knew that?"

"Strange that she knew. Why would she stay with him if she knew that? Why would someone stay with someone they knew would rather die than be with them? I don't understand that at all."

Alec knows he is hardly the man to be teaching this young man about the strange ways of women and men in relationships. He is not an expert. His own knowledge on the subject could be summed up in the words: _Man loves woman. Woman plays with man, then leaves. Man gets drunk_. "Perhaps she likes tragic figures," he says at last. Charlie shakes his head, perhaps in bewilderment. Alec knows he must tread gently with him. "Do you have an idea of what you want to do next?" Alec asks, hoping to distract him from his father's final gesture.

Charlie shakes his head slowly. "I have my hacking. It's lucrative, but I don't especially like doing it. It's not … a healthy way to make a living."

Suddenly, Alec has an idea. His ideas are usually careless and reckless, and not terribly well thought out, but he thinks this is perhaps one of his better ideas. "I need to ring my boss," he says, taking out his phone.

"You have a boss?"

"Yeah. Her name's Erin. I need to speak with her."

Charlie nods, his eyes on Alec's chin. He knows he is an odd kind of man, but then, so is Alec, and he rather likes him, and doesn't wish to lose him as a friend. He needs all the friends he can get right now. As Alec leaves the room, Charlie hopes that he hasn't annoyed the older man with his apparent inability to make a simple decision about his life.

Alec opens the door to the back bedroom, more box room than bedroom, and calls Erin. It is after seven, but he knows she will still be at work. "Erin," he says cheerfully when she answers. "I have a suggestion for you."


	4. Chapter 4

_Alec opens the door to the back bedroom, more box room than bedroom, and calls Erin. It is after seven, but he knows she will still be at work. "Erin," he says cheerfully when she answers. "I have a suggestion for you."_

* * *

By the time Alec returns to the kitchen, his weathered features are softened by a rare smile, which quickly turns to a frown when he notes that Charlie has already eaten a third of the pizza. "Sorry," Charlie says, quickly dropping his eyes, "I haven't eaten since breakfast."

Alec sits at the table opposite Charlie, and grabs a piece of pizza. "My boss would like to talk to you," he says.

Charlie's dark eyes widen, and then he drops his head, compulsively picking at the crumbs on his plate, his actions reminding Alec of a chicken pecking repeatedly at seeds in the soil. "I didn't do anything wrong," Charlie says mechanically.

"Don't worry. You're not about to be sent to the Tower Of London. She would like to contract out some of our more .. challenging jobs to you .. if you're interested."

"You have to talk straight with me. I don't understand innuendo. By challenging, you mean illegal, don't you?"

Alec drops his pizza on the open side of the pizza box, which he is using as a plate. "Yes. We sometimes have hacking jobs which are best done by someone .. independent of the team."

"If you had decent firewalls, you could do anything from anywhere. When I was fourteen I hacked into the Pentagon's mainframe."

"No shit."

"Of course, it's much harder now to complete that hack, but it can still be done, and _is_ being done. You just have to know how to not leave behind any digital fingerprints."

"My boss will have to interview you, and our chief technical officer will have to approve. You'll be working closely with him … if they decide to add you to the payroll, that is."

"Of course. I know how this works."

* * *

After dinner Ruth and Harry climb into bed. It is only a little after nine o'clock, but Ruth is tired, and Charlotte is usually awake by six each morning. On the nights they spend together, Harry normally retires with her, partly to keep her company, partly to spend extra time with her, since their times together are precious, but also in the hope that she may be looking for more than a kiss goodnight from him. He knows Ruth is weary, and has just endured her most stressful day in years, so he is not expecting sex, so when she slides across the bed to entangle her feet with his, her hand resting on his stomach, her fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt, he is surprised, as well as hopeful. When she slides her fingers under his t-shirt to caress the skin of his lower abdomen, her little finger straying towards his pubic hair, he knows he is not imagining her intentions. He turns on his side to kiss her, gently at first, and then with more commitment, and increasing passion.

When her hands move to lift his shirt from his body, he smiles into her eyes. "I thought you were tired," he says.

"I am, but I really need you tonight."

Harry knows what she means. She needs to feel desired and loved, but most of all she needs to celebrate being alive. She needs for him to love her, and to express his desire for her, to play her body like a delicate instrument capable of making music only they can hear. She craves release, but she doesn't want to have do all the work. He slides down the bed and buries his face between her legs, pulling down her pyjama pants as he goes. Beneath his mouth he feels her relax, and she murmurs, "you are so good," as he begins to pleasure her. His own pleasure can wait. Besides, he is easily pleased. This night he will put Ruth's needs ahead of his own.

After she grinds her body against his face as she comes rather violently, he moves up the bed, smiling. Her eyes are closed as she comes down, her arms reaching out to embrace him. "You almost woke our daughter, Ruth," he whispers against her cheek.

"Oh, shut up, Harry. You're just fishing for compliments."

She's right, of course. He is overwhelmed by her response, and knows how good they are together, and there is no better turn-on than her open appreciation. He feels her hands on the waistband of his track pants, pulling them over his hips and his very needy erection. He will take his time, and she will complain, and then beg him to push himself inside her. For him, holding off his own own pleasure is worth it. He kisses her deeply, his fingers playing lightly along her abdomen. "Harry," she moans, and he smiles against her mouth.

A little later they collapse together, falling onto their pillows, their energy spent. "Pardon me if I don't kiss you goodnight," Ruth says breathlessly.

"You're pardoned," he breathes, unable to move.

* * *

23rd December 2012 – London:

It is late morning when there is a knock on the door of their hotel room. Harry and Ruth have eaten, and Charlotte has been fed and dressed for the day, spending most of the morning toddling from her parents' bed to the portacot and back. She has been walking unaided for only a little over a week, and she is very proud of her achievements, smiling widely at her adoring parents as they watch her. Harry had then taken Charlotte outside in her stroller for a brisk walk around the block, before returning just before eleven, so that Ruth can prepare her for her nap.

It is Ruth who answers the door to Dimitri. "Mrs Valentine," he says formally, as she shows him into their room, and leads him to the table where they have eaten their meals, and where Harry already sits. Harry stands to shake hands with Dimitri, and then the three of them sit around the small round table by the window. Dimitri glances at the cot in the corner of the room. "Out like a light," he says, seeing Charlotte's small blond head at one end, next to the green plush fur of the ever-present William. "I hope you don't mind me recording you, but it's my job to write the report."

"No, but just get on with it, Dimitri," Harry says impatiently. Ruth plans to spend the afternoon Christmas shopping, while he is taking Charlotte to the hotel's heated pool in the basement.

* * *

Charlie is clearly uncomfortable with having extra people in the flat, although he had enjoyed showing Tariq his computer system in the back room. Alec has noticed that while communicating through the electronic medium, and through the language of technology, Charlie is in his element, but remove him from that, and he requires the social equivalent of water wings to stay afloat and breathing. For the time being, Alec will need to be the one to provide that little bit of support, as he and Charlie, Erin and Tariq sit around the kitchen table in Abby's flat.

Erin had already taken Charlie through the requirements of whatever work he may be doing for Mi5, and that he will be contacted directly by Tariq as needed, but first he will need to sign an Official Secrets form. With the business done in quick time, Erin then segues to the real reason she is there in person. "I need to know something," she says, watching Charlie carefully. "Your ability to leap through firewalls is clear, so you would have known that James and Alison Valentine own a house in Suffolk, where they spend most of their time, and yet ..." and Erin hesitates, keeping her eyes on Charlie, whose own eyes are fixed on the sugar bowl in front of him, "you directed your father to the hotel where they had a booking. Why did you do that? Surely a better option would have been to send him to Suffolk, where he could have killed Mrs Valentine, with her husband present, and with limited chance of police or other authorities being nearby."

Well, kudos to Erin for having the balls to ask that question, Alec thought. He'd wondered the same thing, but hadn't quite had the bottle to ask. Charlie seems to have taken the question well, but is taking a while to answer. "Charlie," Alec says, "would you like -"

"Stop," Charlie says, lifting his hand as though to block any further words Alec may utter, "I can speak for myself." It is then that Charlie lifts his eyes towards Erin, who sits directly across the table from him. "You're right," he says, his eyes on Erin's fingers, which are fiddling with a spoon, "I knew about the house in Suffolk, and I chose to keep that information from my father. I suggested he go to the hotel to wait for Mrs Valentine, and it was my idea that he hold her in the lift. I hadn't expected her to have the child with her, and I hadn't expected her husband to not be accompanying her that morning. He – Pearce, Valentine – stopped off at his London house, while she and the child continued to the hotel. I hadn't wanted the woman to be killed, and I certainly did not want her baby to be killed." Charlie lifts his eyes ever-so-briefly to Erin's, and then drops them again. Seeing no clear signs of disapproval on her face, he continues. "I .. arranged everything so that the most likely outcome would be the one which eventuated."

"Then I'm glad and relieved, Charlie," Erin says quietly. She is amazed at this young man's bravery and compassion in the face of his father's determination.

"I had to leave my cat back in Reims, and I miss him."

Although Erin appears confused by Charlie's odd comment, Alec understands. Charlie is telling them that he is not a violent man, and does not enjoy killing. He has a cat that he misses. How is it possible for a cat lover to conspire to kill a woman or a child?

* * *

"He had me standing for the whole time with my back to him." Ruth is giving Dimitri her version of the previous day's events. "He had a pistol stuck against the middle of my back, so it was in my best interests to not try anything clever. Fortunately, Charlotte slept through the whole thing."

"How was that possible?" Dimitri asks.

"She's rather a heavy sleeper, and Regnier only ever spoke in a low voice. Sometimes he would lean towards me and whisper in my ear. He said things like, "I can get your husband to come here any time, and then – boom – it will all be over. He will have to watch us both die."

"So he told you that he would take his own life .. after he killed you."

"Almost immediately, after he told me that he was waiting for Harry to arrive."

"Why didn't he get you to ring Harry yourself?"

"I'd wondered the same thing. He seemed quite nervous and .. paranoid, so I suppose he didn't trust me to do that. Perhaps he thought I'd ring you instead, Dimitri." Ruth has been fiddling with the spoon next to her cup of tea, and she looks up at Dimitri. "He was on comms the whole time, speaking with his son. He told me about his son. In fact, he talked a lot. I felt like he was offering me his .. confession, which is strange, given he was planning to kill me."

"Perhaps he didn't really want to kill you," Harry offers quietly. "I can only imagine that he'd be wanting me dead, rather than you. His whole … plan all along may have been little more than a ruse to get me there."

Dimitri continues questioning them both until he has all the information he needs. He is about to leave when he turns and, a little embarrassed, says, "I guess I won't be seeing either of you until after the new year -"

"No, you won't," Harry says abruptly, earning a sharp look from Ruth.

"Then … Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you both, and to your little girl."

"Thank you, Dimitri," Ruth replies quickly, reaching up to kiss Dimitri on the cheek, which earns her a sharp look from Harry.

"And to you, Dimitri," Harry says, reaching out to shake hands with the younger man.

And Dimitri is soon gone, and Harry breathes freely for the first time in two hours. "I thought he'd never leave."

"Harry! He was just doing his job."

"Mumma," calls a small voice from the corner of the room.

"Our daughter has perfect timing, Ruth."

"She can't possibly take after you, then," retorts Ruth, which earns her an unexpected kiss.

* * *

24th December 2012 – London, early hours:

 _Harry is confused. Amish Mani is Indian, and yet he speaks with a heavy French accent, leering at Ruth as he describes what he plans to do with her. Harry is tied to a chair, a gag tied tightly over his mouth. Mani gets in Ruth's face and shouts at her, "Why are you not afraid? I need you to be afraid. How can I kill you when you stare at me like that … and what do you see in this old man?"_

" _Shoot me, then," Ruth says calmly. "It will upset him. He can't stand the sight and smell of blood."_

 _The sound of pistol fire has him crying out. "No!" he says._

Harry opens his eyes to find he's sitting up in bed, breathless, his heart beating rapidly, sweat breaking out at his temples and on his forehead.

"Harry?"

" _What_?" He turns to see Ruth in bed next to him, having turned to face him. "Sorry," he says, "I thought we were …" He rubs palms down his face in an attempt to pull himself into the present. When he removes his hands, he feels Ruth beside him, her hand rubbing his back. He takes a deep breath and turns towards her. Her eyebrows are drawn together in a frown, and he sees their daughter reflected in her face, her grey-blue eyes the same eyes as her mother's.

"What is it?" she says.

"Just then … you looked so much like Charlotte."

"Where were you?"

Harry sighs again, his shoulders slumping. "Not just me, but you also .. we were back .. with Mani," he says quietly, "and he was threatening to shoot you. I was unable to help you."

Ruth leans against his shoulder, tucking her hand around his waist. "I think we should get out of London," she says. "Bad things happen when we're here, and it's no longer just the two of us. The next time someone comes for one of us, there is ..." She has no need to finish her sentence. They both know what she means.

Harry turns to face her, placing a quick kiss on her forehead. "We're supposed to be meeting Graham today."

"Then we invite him to the cottage, not for Christmas Day .. that will be our time, but .. perhaps he might like to visit on -"

"Charlotte's birthday?"

Ruth nods.

"He'll want to bring .."

"Zenith?"

"I prefer to call her Zen, which is almost as bad."

"I'm sure she answers to either name, and .. I'm looking forward to meeting her."

Harry nods, wishing his son had fallen for a girl with a nice, sensible name – like Ruth, or Jane, or Emily. "I'll ring him."

"Preferably once the sun is up."

Harry nods, slipping down under the covers next to his wife.

* * *

Erin is still in bed when her phone rings. She quickly grabs it from her bedside table, and noting the name of the caller, she quickly answers. "Charlie? Has something happened?"

"I've found something on that group in Leicester, but I thought you might want to know about the background of their newest member."

Erin is still rearranging her thoughts, having remembered that today is Christmas Eve, and she still hasn't bought a gift for her mother, although Rosie's gifts are stacked at the back of her wardrobe, behind last year's winter coat. "Go ahead."

"I think he's originally Mi5."

Erin mentally slaps her hand on her forehead. Who is it had given Charlie the Leicester job to investigate, and why hadn't they first run it by her? Erin pushes herself to remember the quick conversation she'd had with Alec only the night before. Had he mentioned Leicester? Had she? And why hadn't anyone thought to mention to Charlie that Calum was working undercover? These, and many more questions threaten to overwhelm her. "Charlie .. it's all right. I think you may have stumbled across Calum Reid. He's one of ours, and he's undercover."

"Well, he's making some strange alliances, if his memos are to be believed."

"Then send them through to my work email. I'll deal with them when I get to work."

"All right. I just thought you should know."

"Thank you, Charlie, and .. good work."

"I know my work is good. You don't have to keep telling me. I'm not a child."

"No, you're not. I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Erin quickly ends the call. Checking the time, she notes that it is four-fifty-three. She sinks back against her pillow and sighs. It's about to be another long day.

* * *

 _ **A/N : That is pretty much the end of the story, with just an epilogue to go.**_

 _ **I included Charlie's hacking into the Pentagon mainframe at 14, since Julian Assange claims to have done the same at age 15. I chose to place Charlie Regnier on the autism spectrum since my own adult son is mildly autistic, with some odd and persistent behaviours, many of which have become Charlie's, although my main motivation came from the character of Jesse in the Australian TV drama, "The Code", so I am acknowledging this here.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:** **This is the final chapter, although it is more an epilogue. Thank you to all who have read this fic, and especially to those who took t** **ime to leave reviews.**_

* * *

29th December 2012 – Suffolk:

 _Mani is pointing a pistol at Ruth, his eyes on Harry. He is being tested. Again. He cannot let this happen. This time Harry is determined to taunt Mani until he shoots him. He doesn't want to die, but what else can he do? Ruth needs to live. He needs her to live and to grow old. He needs her to bring up Charlotte. Charlotte needs Ruth more than she needs him. He is dispensable. Given his lifestyle, he may not have long to live even were Mani to spare him._

 _He stands between Ruth and Mani, and pushes his face towards the Indian (who still speaks with a French accent.) "It is my turn," he says. "Take me."_

 _A shot rings out, temporarily deafening him. Then he hears Mani laughing. "You're a stupid man, Harry. Can't you see that without her you are just putty in our hands?"_

Harry gasps as he takes in a breath, opening his eyes to see the ceiling of their bedroom in the cottage in Suffolk. He blinks several times, waiting for his heart rate to drop, then, understanding at last where he is, he holds his breath as he turns his head on the pillow. Ruth sleeps peacefully beside him, the duvet pulled up to just beneath her nose. He breathes out slowly, longing to press his lips to her temple, but knowing he must leave her to sleep until Charlotte wakes. Very carefully he lifts the duvet from his naked body, the air warm on his skin, the heating having turned on at five-thirty, around a half hour before Charlotte is due to call out from her room next door to theirs, announcing her readiness to begin a new day.

Dressed only in his dressing gown and slippers, Harry quietly leaves the bedroom and takes the stairs to the kitchen, where he makes himself a cup of coffee, and takes it through to the dining room. There he stands, staring through the window, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness outside. Without the clarity brought by daylight, he knows there will be a heavy fog, which hides the landscape and the sea beyond, surrounding their cottage in a cold, moist embrace, ensuring their sanctuary remains hidden from the world outside these four walls. Dawn is still over two hours away.

With only minor reservations, Harry is as happy as he has ever been, despite knowing he and Ruth deliberately skirt around the very obstacles they each know have the power to crack apart their strange bond. Discussions of Ruth's time in Cyprus, her commitment to another man, his strange and poorly timed marriage proposal, her equally non-committal response, and their long standing reluctance to face their demons with the blunt honesty needed, have been relegated to the too hard basket, where in all probability they will remain. With a small child to bring up, and both of them no longer with the energy of youth, they can ill afford to put their marriage at risk. Thus, they continue as they are, happy enough, both aware that were they to last in the long term, they had best venture together down that long, unlit alleyway where their shared and separate pasts lurk, waiting for that moment when an unkind word, an offhand remark, or a deep fissure of misunderstanding between them threatens to split the very fabric of their marriage. Harry would rather they leave the past where it is, but he is wise enough to know that it travels with them always, just out of their reach, waiting for the moment when they are at their most vulnerable, ready to infect them with the poison which has taken many others before them. Harry knows that Alec White's relationships have all been infected with the security service's own peculiar virus.

Despite today being a happy occasion for his small family, he cannot let go of the `almost'. He is almost an old man, but he'd rather not dwell on what that may mean for him. He had almost lost two of the four people he loves most in the world, and his mind will not let him forget that. During the previous Saturday afternoon, he almost became a widower, and he may even have lost his youngest child, just as he and Ruth almost failed to find their way back to one another after her return from exile.

Almost an old man; almost a widower; almost a tragedy; almost disgraced. As Harry sees it, there is only one solution available to him, and it is one he should have sought before Charlotte was born, and even before he and Ruth had married.

He feels Ruth's presence behind him, the air charged with her proximity. "You should have stayed in bed," he says, his eyes still trained on the gloom beyond the window.

"I woke to find you gone. I was worried about you."

Harry turns briefly to gaze at his wife, his eyes lingering on her mouth, before returning to contemplating the early morning. "I'm thinking."

He feels her move towards him, and then the warmth of her body as she nestles close to his side, with one arm curved around him, her palm pressed against the middle of his back. As her head comes to rest against his shoulder, he breathes out his anxiety and allows himself to relax. "It was at about this time a year ago that we were sitting together on my hospital bed, gazing at the miracle that was our newborn daughter," she says.

Harry nods, feeling a surge of emotion from deep within his body. "She's still a miracle," he says quietly. "The passing of time hasn't changed that." Ruth is reminding him that today is a happy day; there is no place in this day for regret or fear or `what ifs'. "I think it might be time," he says.

"Time?"

"For a change."

Ruth's brow furrows as she frowns her misunderstanding, gazing up at him. "I'm not divorcing you, Harry, nor am I prepared to have another child -"

"Neither of which is on my list." He waits, choosing his words carefully. "Now that so many others know that you and I are married, and that we have Charlotte, I think it's time I retired. The Grid is in good hands. The remaining team work rather well together, and Erin seems to be learning the fine art of delegation."

"That's some speech," Ruth says quietly, moving her palm in a slow circle across his back, so that he unconsciously leans back a little to meet her palm.

"I've been thinking about it for some time, but no time seemed like the right time."

"Had you retired six months ago, I suspect Alain Regnier would still have found you."

"I know, and it took .. what happened last Saturday to motivate me into taking action."

"You've already resigned?"

"No," he says quietly, "six o'clock is perhaps a bit early, but I'll ring Towers after breakfast. Now I've decided, I don't want to wait any longer."

"Thank you, Harry. I do need you, you know, and not just as the other parent to our daughter."

Harry reaches out to draw Ruth closer. She presses her free hand against his chest, and then slowly runs her palm down his body to his belly, where she takes some time to run her hands in a circular path over his rotund shape. Once she has explored far enough to learn he is naked beneath his dressing gown, she slips her hand through the opening of the garment and presses her palm against his genitals, glancing up at him when she feels movement.

"I am so relieved that for once your hands are warm," he murmurs, smiling into her eyes as she cups him, enjoying for a moment her power as his lover, as he slowly swells in her hand. "This is most unexpected, Ruth," he says, bending to kiss her, one hand sliding inside her dressing gown, and then lifting her pyjama top, seeking the warmth and softness of her breast.

Hearing a cry from upstairs, they both halt the movement of their hands. Reluctantly, Harry pulls away, while Ruth removes her hand from inside his dressing gown, adjusting the gown so that his body is covered. "Mumma?" a small voice calls. "Dadda."

"Your daughter's timing is as terrible as your own."

Harry smiles, dropping a quick kiss on her lips. "Let's save this for later."

"Much later."

* * *

Graham and his new girlfriend arrive unexpectedly early, having stayed the night with friends in Felixstowe, and after a several hours spent with Charlotte in the living room, crawling around on the floor with her while she plays with her birthday gifts, they eat an early lunch and then leave. Harry is unimpressed that their visit is so brief, while Ruth is relieved. While in their cottage, their place of safety, she resents any intrusion on their privacy, even from family.

Graham's first comment upon seeing Charlotte again had been about William, the penguin. "Do you like Penguin, Charlotte? I gave him to you when you were born."

Ruth had quickly glanced across the room at Harry, and then noting he was about to speak, had shaken her head. Her meaning was clear; no negative comments on Charlotte's birthday. The penguin's likeness to Towers is one only Harry can see, and should not be used as a reason to bait Graham.

"Graham appears happy," she comments, after they have driven away, and Harry has returned from putting Charlotte down for a nap.

"I can't imagine why," he grumbles, "his girlfriend's a head case. Did you know her real name is Anne-Marie, and she changed it to Zenith to hide her identity from her ex-husband?"

"That doesn't make her crazy, Harry. That's being careful, as well as realistic. It's Zenith's equivalent of us hiding away here in this cottage."

"You're the second person this week to accuse me of having double standards," and then he shares with Ruth the essence of his phone call to Catherine on Christmas Day.

He and Ruth hadn't seen Catherine since October, since she is currently working in Los Angeles on a cooperative venture with two other film makers.

"As much as I hate doing this at my age," Catherine had said, after they had exchanged all the usual news about her work, and Ruth and Charlotte, "I have to let you know that I have met someone."

Harry had been momentarily flummoxed. "I thought you already had," he'd said.

"I take it you're talking of Martin. I haven't seen him since I left London, but Mum suggested I should tell you about Dean."

"Dean."

"Yes. Dean Wallis. He's American."

"My favourite kind of person," Harry had said, barely hiding the sarcasm.

"That's not the worst of it."

"There's more?"

"There is. Dean is divorced -"

"Dear God .."

"- and he's older than me."

"How old?"

"He's in his forties."

"How far into his forties?"

"He's .. forty-nine."

"Christ, Catherine, are there no available men of suitable age in the country? In any country?"

"He's seventeen years older than me."

And at that, Harry had held in the expletive he'd been about to utter. "Surely you're not seeing this man just to make a statement about Ruth and me."

"Of course not, but do you see what a double standard your reaction represents? Did you never ask yourself should you be going there with Ruth?"

"Of course I did .. many times."

"And do you not think I've had similar reservations about Dean, and he about me?"

"Do you?"

"Of course I do, Dad, but like you and Ruth, we've decided to give it a go."

Okay, so he still sees Catherine as his little girl, and he is protective of her. Since when has that been a crime? And as for he and Ruth, Harry sees them as being unique, and not beholden to the usual social norms.

"So, both your adult children are currently in relationships with divorced people who are older than they are," Ruth points out, after hearing the story. "The exact same thing could be said of me, and I didn't notice you telling me to leave you alone because you're divorced, older, and a bad risk. In fact, despite my giving you little encouragement, you chased me relentlessly for years."

"Do you regret it?" he asks.

"No, I don't, especially now we have Charlotte. For me, she makes the difficult times worth it. Perhaps Catherine and Graham will have similar outcomes in their relationships, and if not, I'm sure there are other single people for them out there somewhere."

Trust Ruth to put the kibosh on it. Put like that, he has no argument. Sometimes she is no fun at all. Then again …

For a moment Harry entertains the idea of leading Ruth upstairs to finish what they began prior to daybreak, but before he can act on it, his phone rings. "That'll be Towers," he says, taking his mobile phone from his pocket, and checking the identity of the caller. "It's not Towers," he says, and then quickly answers, while Ruth looks on. "Alec," he says, barely holding in his irritation, "what can I do for you? You realise I'm on -" and then he stops to listen to what Alec has to say. He watches Ruth as she crosses the room to sit on the sofa, close to the gas fire. "I can't do that, Alec. Erin is officially your Section Head, and so this must pass through her." He waits and listens for another minute, before ending the call.

"Trouble at mill?" Ruth says, not altogether seriously.

Harry nods. "Charlie Regnier has evidence that Calum has joined the group he is meant to have infiltrated."

"But … isn't that what he's meant to be doing?"

Again, Harry nods. He has joined Ruth on the sofa, sitting a little distance from her. For a moment he realises that they have quickly settled into their roles of section head and chief analyst. "But he's meant to still be keeping contact with his handler on the Grid."

"Who is ..?"

"Erin. The last contact she had was the day you were taken by Alain Regnier. He was meant to have called in three days ago, but hasn't."

"Has his contact phone been traced?"

"To a roadside rubbish bin just outside Leicester."

Harry watches as Ruth considers the information at hand. "He may be going under deep cover, or he may ..."

"- have been rumbled. Either way – and I hate to say this aloud, Ruth, but ..."

"It's not your .. concern."

Harry's nod is barely perceptible, but it is there, and Ruth detects that the news has troubled him. She also knows that, as he has during the past eighteen months, Harry is putting her and Charlotte ahead of the service. Ruth's smile is as slight and fleeting as was Harry's nod. "I'm still waiting for Towers to ring me back," he says.

"You haven't spoken to him?"

Again, Harry's phone rings. He grabs it from his pocket, and answers it without checking the identity of the caller. "Harry Pearce," he barks, his eyes still on Ruth. "Home Secretary," he continues, "thank you for returning my call. Yes, and to you also. I don't think it will surprise you to learn that I am announcing my retirement from the service." He smiles into Ruth's eyes as she moves closer, reaching out to place her hand on his knee. "Yes, I _am_ sure that it's a wise decision, and yes, I do have good reason for coming to this decision .. two very good reasons."

Ruth doesn't listen to the rest of the conversation. She has no need. She leans closer to Harry and gently rests her head on his shoulder. A year ago today their lives changed forever, and now it is changing again. As Harry ends the call she sits upright, turning to look at him.

"He needs me in London to fill in some forms."

"When?"

"On Wednesday .. in four days, and then .."

"It will be all over." Ruth sighs. "We should celebrate your retirement by throwing your work phone in the ocean."

"Or conducting a ritual burning," he adds quietly.

"Even better. Perhaps we can build a pyre and throw on your phone, your suits, shirts and ties."

"Or we could donate them to charity. Either way, after Wednesday I'm not planning to wear them ever again."

Ruth reaches out to grasp his hand. "For once, Harry, your timing is perfect."

"I thought so. Let's celebrate. I could do with a whisky." Charlotte's birthday has so far been a dry one for Harry, and he is in need of something stronger.

"Just a tea for me," says Ruth.

She watches him as he leaves the room to get their drinks, and for once there is a spring in his step.


End file.
